The Coldest Summer
by Silver Sailor Ganymede
Summary: This is the story of the fateful events of the summer of 1899, the coldest, most unbearable summer of Albus Dumbledore's life.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Coldest Summer  
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

I.

For the second time in his life things were not working out in the way that Albus Dumbledore had planned. The first time, when his father had been carted off to Azkaban for having used the cruciatus curse on those hideous muggles (whom he thought had deserved all the punishment they got) had infuriated and saddened him, but not proved to be a hindrance to his plans as a whole. This time, however…

Albus shook his head in disgust as he continued to walk back to his home in Godric's Hollow. He had apparated to a point a couple of miles away from the village itself, wanting to give himself time to think about all that had transpired that morning; he didn't want to go into that blasted house to face his inept brother and incapable sister just yet, as he knew that something – or even someone was very likely to get cursed if he did. No, he thought as he kicked at a rock in his path, he needed time to think about this, needed time to absorb the fact that everything he had wanted, everything he had been working towards since childhood had suddenly been stopped dead in its tracks and wouldn't begin again for an indefinite amount of time.

He had been trying to escape the tiny, dead little village that was Godric's Hollow ever since they'd been forced to move there. He could make no connections there, with the possible exception of Bathilda Bagshot, whom he already knew rather well, and it was no use to Albus to be stuck in a place where he could not influence anything that was going on in the wider wizarding world. Through no fault of his own (no lack of intelligence, talent or hard work) his future had been completely and utterly ruined.

Just hours ago he had been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron with Elphias Doge and they had been planning the very final details of their long-anticipated grand tour of all the important wizarding places in the world (or at the very least a large portion of them) when Albus had received owl-post saying that his mother was dead and that he had to go back to Godric's Hollow immediately as he was now the sole guardian of his younger siblings. In Albus' mind there was nothing worse that could have happened – now he was stuck in the absolute middle of nowhere with a brother who was almost an idiot and a sister who was effectively a squib. No, life could not get any worse for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

It was a beautiful summer's day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and yet Albus didn't encounter a soul as he made his way into Godric's Hollow proper. The fact that there was no one around even in such fine weather confirmed his belief that Godric's Hollow was not the best place for an ambitious, talented young man such as himself to end up.

It was then that he noted, with no small amount of surprise that there was someone sitting in the front garden of Bathilda Bagshot's house – someone whom he had never seen before in his life. The person in question was a young man, probably around his own age, Albus thought, and he was undeniably the most beautiful thing that Albus had ever laid eyes on. Gold ringlets had escaped from the loose ponytail he had tied at the nape of his neck, and he had the most astonishing violet eyes – violet eyes that were glaring straight up at Albus.

The boy nodded in acknowledgement to Albus then turned back to the book he had been reading previously. Albus noted that it was in some foreign tongue – Mermish, perhaps? But no, if it were Mermish then he would have been able to read it.

Albus turned away and carried on back to his house – yes, it was his now, wasn't it? Everything his parents had owned belonged to him now: then again that wasn't saying much. His house quickly loomed into sight and Albus repressed a shudder. He had been hoping that he would never have to come back here again, yet here he was, only seventeen-years-old and already tied down to a family he didn't want and a place he despised through no choice nor fault of his own.

He took and deep breath and slammed the door open, chucking his cloak unceremoniously onto a hook in the hallway as he did so. He strode into the living room, still deeply irritated by the fact that he was being made to stay here of all places, then he noticed a figure curled up on the sofa and his annoyance deepened.

Of course Aberforth would be here, he thought to himself; he does live here after all. That did not mean that Albus was at all pleased to see his brother though; in fact far from it. In Albus' mind Aberforth was as stupid as he was brilliant, and looked set to receive a set of straight Ts for his O. W. Ls later in the summer.

"Albus," Aberforth sighed in relief. "Thank goodness you're back. I… I can't handle her on my own. She's completely out of control, completely!" It was then that Albus noticed that his younger brother was deathly pale and looked absolutely terrified. He heard a loud crash from one of the nearby rooms and realised what was going on; their sister was having another one of those fits where her magic couldn't be controlled.

He shuddered in disgust. At least those filthy muggles had paid for what they had done to her – though he was of the opinion that his father should have put more strength into the curse, that he should have driven them completely insane just like they did to his poor sister.

"Is it because of mother?" Albus asked, sitting himself down on a chair opposite the one where his brother was huddled up.

Aberforth shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. "She's the reason mother's dead, Albus," he choked out at last, unable to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. "She killed her. Our sister killed our own mother, damn it!"

The crashes from the other room suddenly appeared even louder as Aberforth began to sob and Albus felt his blood grow cold. He had always realised that his sister's magic was completely out of control, but he'd never considered that she could actually _kill _someone, let alone their mother.

Suddenly the crashes stopped and all Albus could hear was Aberforth sobbing on the sofa beside him. Ariana's magic had finally warn itself out. Albus sighed in relief; he wasn't going to have to drug her today, as she had probably warn herself out so much that she wouldn't even wake up again for another week.

"How long as she been like this for?" Albus asked his brother.

"Three days," Aberforth spat, trying to dry his face on the sleeve of his robes but failing because more tears tell as soon as he did so.

Three whole days. That was the worst outburst that Albus had ever heard of; his sister was becoming more and more unstable as time went on. He couldn't deal with this, he honestly couldn't. He had planned to be in southern France by this time today, and instead he found himself at home with his idiot brother and his insane sister – and now he found out that his sister was actually the cause of their mother's death. How did anyone expect him to deal with that?

"I'll be in my room," Albus said shortly and headed upstairs, away from his siblings. He needed time alone to let all this sink in; it was too much to comprehend at once, even for him.

It was the summer of 1899 and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore really was certain that there was no way in which life could get any worse than it already was.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Albus was quite happily reading in his study. He had managed to get a little bit of research done for an article he had been commissioned to write for The Practical Potioneer, though he was hoping to get far more done by the time the day was finished, and perhaps even make a start on the article itself.

This was not to be, however, as he was soon interrupted by his brother, who stomped unannounced and uninvited into his study.

"You should go and check on Ariana," Aberforth snapped.

"And you should really learn to knock before disturbing me at my work," Albus replied coldly.

Aberforth ignored his brother's comment. "You haven't checked up on her once since you got back, have you?"

"I fail to see why I ought to," Albus replied. "You and I both know that she won't wake for several days, not after an outburst of the magnitude."

"You're her guardian," Aberforth hissed. "You're supposed to be looking after her!"

"I have things to do other than look after her," Albus snapped, attempting to turn his attention back to his book.

"What, so your books are now more important than Ariana, are they?" Aberforth asked. "You're a Gryffindor, Albus, but you act like a Slytherin! You're too ambitious for your own good and now you're afraid to even face your own si…"

Aberforth stopped short when he saw Albus' wand pointing straight at him. "One more word, Aberforth, and I can't promise that I won't hurt you," Albus snarled. He slammed his book shut and walked out of the room, leaving Aberforth standing there, dumbfounded.

Albus grabbed his cloak from the hook in the hallway and stormed out of the house, quite certain that he would hex his insufferable younger brother if he had to put up with him even for a moment longer. Aberforth Gallahad Arthur Godric Dumbledore really was the most annoying human being on this planet – at least so far as Albus was concerned. Too ambitious? There was no such thing as too ambitious, and besides, he wasn't afraid. How _dare _Aberforth accuse him of being afraid? It was simply that yes, cruel as it sounded, there were things in life that were more important then the well-being of an unstable child who couldn't even control her own magic!

At that moment Albus' only wish was to get as far away from the house as possible. He didn't want to be there at all, and he most certainly didn't want to have to listen to Aberforth's cheek while he was attempting to get some work done. He couldn't get the thought out of his mind that he _should _have been in France doing some research into medieval alchemic practices there, and instead he was stuck in England doing almost nothing of use.

His rage abated somewhat, however, when he noticed that the strangely beautiful boy he had glimpsed the day before was again sitting in Bathilda Bagshot's garden. His hair was loose today, Albus noted, and golden curls obscured his face as he leant so close to his book that Albus was sure his nose was probably almost touching the parchment.

Unlike yesterday, however, Bathilda Bagshot was in the garden with the boy. She too was engrossed in some obscure book, as she was want to do, but she soon caught sight of Albus and leapt to her feet in delight.

"Albus! What _are _you doing here? I was under the impression that you and Elphias were off on some sort of adventure for the next year or two," she exclaimed, obviously shocked by his presence.

"Mother was recently taken ill," Albus replied. "She… she passed away. I still have to arrange the funeral. That being said, it seems all my plans for the immediate future have changed. I have Aberforth to think of now, after all." He didn't mention Ariana; even Bathilda Bagshot, who was the closest thing his mother had to a friend here, did not know about his sister's existence.

Bathilda looked shocked. "I'm terribly sorry, Albus. I didn't know! I expected she was ill for a long time, cooped up in the house as she was, but I never expected. Oh you poor boy, come in and have a cup of tea!"

Albus accepted her invitation, glad to have an excuse to be away from his brother for an extended period of time. He knew that Bathilda wouldn't ask him an inordinate amount of questions, although she would obviously be shocked that Kendra Dumbledore had suddenly dropped dead. Out of all the people in the village she was the only one whom his mother hadn't shunned, but even that probably only equated to a few words exchanged in passing.

He followed Bathilda Bagshot into the kitchen and sat down at the table while she bustled about making a pot of tea. Luckily she had the sense not to ask any further questions about his mother, which would likely have angered Albus at that time.

She sat a steaming hot cup of tea down in front of him, then leaned out of the kitchen window and called to the golden-haired boy, who was still draped over a chair in the front garden with his head in a book.

"Gellert! Come inside and have some tea. You haven't said hello to our guest."

The boy slammed the book shut, annoyed at having been disturbed. He stood up and Albus was surprised to note that the boy was as tall as he was, perhaps even an inch or so taller. He skulked into the house, the book still clutched in one hand, and sat down opposite Albus. He looked thoroughly unimpressed at having had his reading interrupted.

"This young man is Albus Dumbledore," Bathilda said, setting a cup of tea down in front of the boy before sitting down herself.

At the mention of his name the boy's countenance changed considerably, from a look of utter boredom to one of pure fascination, as though he had been presented with a one-of-a-kind specimen.

"It may be inappropriate to mention this, but I read your latest article in Transfiguration Today. Most fascinating work, Mr. Dumbledore," the boy said quietly, offering his hand to Albus.

"Yes, that's correct," Albus replied as he took the other's hand, surprised that this boy had read his article at all, let alone understood it. Whoever he was he couldn't be older than Albus himself, and it was very rare indeed for any of his peers to understand his work – no, more than rare, unheard of! "I don't believe we've met."

"Of course, I haven't introduced myself, have I?" The boy tutted to himself as if disproving of his own actions. "Forgive my lack of manners, Mr. Dumbledore. I am Grindelwald – Gellert Grindelwald."

When Gellert announced his name, Albus detected a foreign tint to his voice for the first time. Up until then his English had been flawless, but when pronouncing his own name an accent made its presence known – though what accent it was Albus couldn't quite be sure. It was eastern European; he could be sure of that much – Hungarian, perhaps, or Russian. He really didn't know.

"Gellert is my great-nephew," Bathilda said by way of explanation. "He has been travelling for a while and has decided to come and stay with me for a short period of time."

"History, mostly," Gellert replied. This did not surprise Albus at all; affinities for subjects tended to run in families, and with a great-aunt like Bathilda how could he fail to be interested in history?

"Any particular period?" Albus asked.

"Yes; I'm researching European wizarding legends," Gellert replied. "I wanted to see if there was any truth in them. I mean, wouldn't it be awfully interesting if one were to find out that, say, the story of the three brothers was true?"

It took a lot of strength for Albus not to laugh of this. Of course all legends had a basis in fact, but this young man was seriously researching them? It all struck him as rather ridiculous. But of course he didn't say that.

"I see," Albus replied. "May I inquire as to what book it is that you're reading?"

"What, this?" Gellert asked, pointing to his now-forgotten book, which was lying right beside him on his great-aunt's kitchen table. "It's a Goblin-written account of the dispute between the Goblin King, Ragnuk the First, and Godric Gryffindor. I thought it would make rather appropriate reading material considering that this is where Gryffindor was born."

"You know Gobbledegook?" Albus asked, his interest peaked.

"Of course. I know it just as fluently as I know English," Gellert replied. "I started learning it when I was in my third year; thought it might make history of magic lessons rather more interesting if I was able to read about the Goblin Rebellions from both points of view."

Albus agreed with him, but he could not hide his surprise. This boy was only around his age, yet he could already speak Gobbledegook fluently. Evidently he had some background in magilingustics, as it was a notoriously hard language to learn.

"I could lend you some books if you're interested in learning it, Mr. Dumbledore," Gellert said brightly. "I'll have to find them first though, I'm afraid. I arrived three days ago but I've been too wrapped up in my book to bother unpacking."

"Thank you," Albus replied. "I would find that most interesting."

It was then that he glanced up at the clock on Bathilda's wall and realised that he had been rather longer than he anticipated. No matter how much he disliked the idea he knew that he would have to get back to the house, if only to check that Aberforth hadn't let another one of his blasted goats loose in the living room again.

"The funeral will be sometime this week," Albus said after thanking Bathilda for the tea. "I need to figure things out with the vicar first, but I'll tell you as soon as everything's arranged."

With that Albus left Bathilda Bagshot and her beautiful, strange great-nephew. He knew that he would see them at his mother's funeral, but all the same he felt a strange, aching sensation in his chest at having to leave the mysterious Gellert Grindelwald behind.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

His mother's funeral was a very quiet affair. Albus, Aberforth, Bathilda Bagshot and the vicar were the only people in attendance. This on its own was enough to make Albus feel rather depressed (for he was old enough to remember a time when his mother had been wonderfully popular, when the house had been filled with at least two visitors at any one time. This, of course, was before his sister had been hurt) but the weather was making the situation far worse than he had ever even thought possible. The sun was shining, birds were singing, it was pleasantly warm and the world looked as though it had spared not even a moment's thought for the untimely passing of Kendra Alice Dumbledore.

Albus had had a hard time convincing his brother to come along, for Aberforth was extremely worried about having to leave Ariana alone for even a short period of time. Albus had given Aberforth a sleeping potion to give to their sister (for he still could not bring himself to face the unstable little girl), but even the assurance that Ariana would be asleep for at least the next eight hours had not been enough to entirely quell Aberforth's nerves.

The sight of the empty church had made Albus feel sick. The funeral itself was as dead as his mother was. This was not a celebration of her life, merely a gathering of three people to mourn someone they'd hardly seen in years and hardly known at all. Albus thought that Bathilda Bagshot had the look in her eyes of one who had been to rather too many funerals of late and was growing tired of all the pomp and ceremony, and Aberforth was wailing like a demented poltergeist, letting out grief for himself and Ariana (who would never realise what she had done) and for Albus, too, though he didn't realise it at the time, for Albus would never allow himself to cry in a situation so public as this. The great Albus Dumbledore in tears? No, that was never going to happen.

Albus tried to listen to the vicar as he droned on about what a wonderful woman Kendra had been, how she had devoted her life to the upbringing of her two beloved sons, saying how she had bravely fought against a long, debilitating illness before her untimely demise, and just generally making it plain as day that he had never met the woman at all. It really was enough to make Albus feel sick to his stomach.

He couldn't even quite remember how they found himself in the graveyard, watching his mother's coffin being slowly lowered into the ground. It was all being done by magic, of course, though if any muggle happened upon them they would simply see a normal funeral service. Albus shook his head; he shouldn't be thinking about such things now, it was idiotic.

He was only half-aware of it as he took a handful of earth and sprinkled it into the grave. All he could consciously bring himself to think about was the fact that it was going to be almost impossible to get the dirt out from underneath his nails later. A part of him was dimly aware that there was no point in worry about the earth, as he could easily magic it out from under his nails later on if any happened to get in there.

He could see Aberforth standing near him, not quite close enough for him to touch. His brother was also dropping a handful of dirt into the grave, his eyes even more clouded than Albus' were. Unlike his brother, Aberforth had no shame about crying where others could see him. Tears were expected at a funeral after all. Aberforth moved, his hand and Albus' brushing against each others' momentarily before both brothers flinched away.

How sad it would have been if their mother had seen that they acted so with such hostility to each other this even now, something in Albus' mind was saying. She would have wanted them to pull together because they were all each other had left. Albus ignored the voice; he didn't want to listen to it. He couldn't listen to it, not now.

The hole in the ground was filling itself up with earth – then a headstone appeared from nowhere. Albus stared at it, transfixed. He was dimly aware of the others leaving but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the headstone. Kendra Alice Dumbledore, 1856-1899. It was there, in front of him, solid fact, and even he couldn't argue against such a fact.

Albus couldn't have said how long he stood there for, simply staring mindlessly at the shining headstone. He couldn't quite comprehend the fact that it was his mother's body down there: his mother, who had been so healthy and alive just days before.

Days. His entire life had changed so completely in just a matter of days. It didn't bear thinking about, it really didn't. No, it couldn't have been only days since this whole thing had started. It felt like years: it felt like eons.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Albus?" Bathilda Bagshot asked, touching Albus gently on the shoulder and causing him to turn away from the grave at last. He didn't ask why she'd come back out here – probably to check on him, as he'd been standing there for a long time (probably hours, he thought as he took note of the much lower position the sun now occupied in the heavens), simply staring at the newly filled-in grave of his mother.

"Yes, thank you," Albus stuttered out at last. "Tea would… tea would be very much appreciated."

Bathilda took hold of his arm and led him forward, almost as if she had anticipated that Albus' legs seemed to have lost the ability to fully support his weight. He felt more than a little awkward, leaning on the older woman like he was, but he knew that if he didn't he wouldn't be capable of standing any longer, let alone walking.

He followed Bathilda back to her house and found himself sitting at the table with a mug of steaming hot tea in his hands. He didn't even quite remember how he'd got there. Evidently he had been sitting there for quite some time, as the older woman was staring at him with some concern in her eyes.

"Are you alright, my dear?" she asked and Albus nodded shakily. Yes, he was alright. Of course he was alright. He had to be.

He caught sight of a flash of gold and realised that Gellert was standing awkwardly in the doorway, evidently not knowing what to do about the fact that a man he rather admired was sitting at their kitchen table, drinking strong tea and looking as though his whole world had been totally and irreversibly destroyed. Albus noticed that he had a stack of ancient-looking books balanced precariously between his arms, and realised that these must be the Gobbledegook books that Gellert had mentioned to him some days previously.

Bathilda Bagshot caught a sight of the books in Gellert's arms and hissed "Not now," to him out of the corner of her mouth, sensing the inappropriateness of the situation.

Albus pretended he hadn't heard her. The books would come in useful right now; he needed something to occupy his mind, and three was little that could occupy one so completely as the study of an exceptionally complex language such as Gobbledegook.

"Are those the books you mentioned?" Albus asked. "Thank you so much for allowing me to borrow them."

Gellert placed the books on the table in front of Albus, much as he had done with his book on King Ragnuk the first time the two had spoken. Bathilda shot her great-nephew a despairing look, evidently wondering why Gellert's manners were so lacking and why Albus was so eager to immerse himself in the study of the Goblin language immediately after he had left his own mother's funeral. Either she saw through his attempts at occupying his mind or she thought him completely heartless, though which of the two was correct Albus never did find out.

He stayed in Bathilda Bagshot's kitchen for a while, drinking seemingly endless cups of tea and discussing the technicalities of the linguistic structures of Gobbledegook with Gellert. When he realised that it had gone dark, he finally excused himself and made his way back to his house, which seemed even more silent than usual. He tried not to think about it – tried not to think about anything at all.

It was only when Albus had entered his study, slamming and locking the door behind him that the significance of recent events really dawned on him. His plans may have been ruined, but his mother was dead and he was the sole provider for his siblings. His mother was dead, his father was in Azkaban, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had never felt so alone in his life. For the rest of the evening he simply sat at his desk and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

Albus didn't leave the house for a week after his mother's funeral. Instead he devoted his time to looking after his sister – his poor, unstable, traumatised sister whom Albus had so cruelly neglected in his annoyance at having his plans disrupted.

As such, it was a number of days before Albus had occasion to meet with Gellert Grindelwald again, and when he did it happened purely by chance. He had gone out in order to replenish his store of potions ingredients, which had been running low for far longer than Albus would have usually let it, and was walking back to his house when he chanced upon the other young wizard.

Gellert was not sitting in his garden that day but was instead sprawled out in the shade of a large oak tree, seemingly both enjoying and completely ignoring the sunshine. He was engrossed in some obscure ancient tome, as he almost always seemed to be whenever Albus saw him, but surprisingly he looked up at Albus and waved to him as he passed, signalling for the other wizard to come and sit beside him.

Albus hesitated, desperately wanting company but worried about whether his sister would be able to cope on her own for much longer. Then again, he told himself, Ariana had Aberforth for watch over her – and besides, he had been out all day, so what difference was another twenty minutes or so going to make?

His mind made up, he joined Gellert under the shade of the oak tree. The other boy put his book down and Albus noted that it was written in some ancient form of runic.

"What's that that you're reading?" Albus asked, genuinely interested in his companion's reading choices.

"Oh, nothing important," Gellert replied a little too nonchalantly. "Just an old Dark Arts text. I've had to hide it from my dear aunt, of course; she's adamant that I'm not to study the Dark Arts until I'm of age, but I don't think she really expects me to pay any attention to such sentiments."

"You're not of age yet?" Albus asked, not entirely sure he'd heard the other boy correctly. He had assumed that Gellert was the same age as he was, perhaps even a year or so older.

"No," Gellert replied. "I'm only sixteen. My birthday's not for another ten months, unfortunately. I'm glad I'm not a muggle though – I've heard that they don't come of age in this country until they're eighteen. Imagine that."

Albus stared at Gellert in shock. He was only sixteen? Why, that meant that he was the same age as Aberforth, yet this fascinating young man was as different to his younger brother as it was possible to get.

"So where do you go to school?" Albus asked when he finally regained the powers of speech. "I've certainly never seen you around Hogwarts."

"I went to Durmstrang," Gellert replied. "Hideous place, Durmstrang. I couldn't stand it and it couldn't stand me, so it's good that I've left now."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "They let you graduate early?" Considering the boy's obvious intelligence that was hardly surprising, but it had certainly never been commonplace at _Hogwarts _for anyone to finish school before the age of seventeen (unless, of course, they failed all their O. like his brother looked likely to do.)

Gellert seemed to find Albus' question rather hilarious. "Heavens no!" he cried. "They expelled me half-way through my fifth year. That's why I've been travelling round for the past few months and ended up in _Godric's Hollow _of all places."

Albus stared at the other boy in shock. He had been expelled from Durmstrang? Expelled? From Durmstrang? But it was almost _impossible _to get expelled from that school from what Albus had heard; even harder than it was to get oneself expelled from Hogwarts – even Aberforth was still attending Hogwarts no matter how many ridiculous, reckless, rash, over-the-top, Gryffindorish things he'd done.

"But… but what about your exams?" Albus asked, for he knew for a fact that Durmstrang, like Hogwarts, required students to take major examinations in their fifth and seventh years.

"Irrelevant," Gellert replied with a smirk. "I found the seventh year exam papers when I was in my second year and decided it would be… interesting if I completed them in every subject and sent them off to the examiners along with the seventh years' work. Professor Vlasceanu – he's the high master there, in case you didn't know –wasn't exactly pleased when he realised what I'd done: though I doubt he would have realised at all had I not achieved the highest marks out of the entire year's entry."

Albus' shock turned into complete disbelief. He had taken the final-year examinations in his second year and achieved higher marks than the seventh years? This Gellert Grindelwald was brilliant, yes, but he was also undeniably arrogant, for Albus himself wouldn't even have dared to do such a thing when he was in his second year.

"So what did you do for the remainder of your time at Durmstrang?" Albus asked.

Gellert shrugged. "I sat round the library being bored and ended up stuck in classes that were far below my level, that's what. And when I decided to study things that were actually of interest to me they decided that my talents weren't welcome at their institute." Gellert momentarily looked as though he was sucking on an acid pop, but his features quickly returned to their normal state – though Albus had already realised that nothing about this Gellert Grindelwald could be called 'normal', certainly not.

Albus frowned, remembering something he had heard a while ago. "But don't they teach you the Dark Arts at Durmstrang?"

"They claim to" Gellert replied, a sneer evident in his voice. "But it's nothing that could really be called dark magic. It's all just simple curses, the sorts of things you throw round at other children in playground duels. And yet they decide to call it 'Dark Magic' because they think it dangerous. Don't they realise that all magic has the potential to be dangerous? It just depends on how one decides to use it." He sighed and shook his head. "You shouldn't really let me start on this now. I'll talk on through the night if you let me – it's just that the branding of magic as either inherently 'dark' or 'light' is something that annoys me greatly. You can come round tomorrow if you wish to discuss this further; we'll have some tea as well, if you wish. I've developed rather a liking for tea since coming here."

Albus almost laughed, momentarily forgetting the seriousness of the discussion they had been having only a few minutes before.

"Yes," he said. "I'd like that very much. But I'm afraid I really ought to be getting home now."

"Potions ingredients to sort out?"

"How could you tell?"

"Well the bags you're carrying are rather a giveaway," Gellert drawled. "Now I'll leave you to your chores and you can leave me to my reading. I'll see you at midday tomorrow, if that's alright with you."

"Of course," Albus replied, picking up his bags and beginning to walk home. No matter how bizarre a discussion he had just had, his mood had lightened considerably as a result of his chance meeting with Gellert Grindelwald that day.


	5. Chapter 5

V.

As Gellert had promised, there was a steaming pot of tea, two tea cups and a rather large tin of biscuits set out on the table in Bathilda Bagshot's kitchen when Albus arrived there at midday the next day. Gellert himself was sitting on one of the chairs with a large book balanced on his knees as though he didn't realise there was a table right in front of him. He looked up as Albus entered the room, slammed the book shut and placed it on the table next to the teapot.

"I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of letting myself in," Albus said as he took a seat opposite the other boy.

Gellert chuckled quietly. "Of course not. Aunt Bathilda's out, and frankly I was so caught up in my book that I didn't notice you here until you were right in front of me. Had you waited for me to open let you in, well, you would have been standing there for hours, I'm afraid." Albus laughed and Gellert smiled. "Would you care for some tea?"

"I would indeed," Albus replied. Gellert waved his wand and the tea began to serve itself. Albus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "How is it that you can still do magic even though they expelled you?"

Gellert's gaze hardened slightly and Albus momentarily wondered if he'd spoken out of turn.

"I will do magic whether they wish me to or not," Gellert replied. "Besides, I've been a fully qualified wizard since the age of twelve, haven't I? So they couldn't exactly take my wand off me, and besides, I'm perfectly capable of performing wandless magic. All they could do was ban me from ever setting foot in Durmstrang Institute in the future, and frankly I'm rather glad that I'll never have to lay eyes on that place again."

"Is that why you've decided to travel round Europe now?" Albus asked, and was briefly struck by the thought that right now he really ought to have been somewhere in Inner Mongolia with Elphias. It was odd, really; so much had happened in recent weeks that he'd hardly spared a thought for his forcibly abandoned round-the-world adventure. After all, had he gone on that trip then he never would have met Gellert Grindelwald, and he was quite certain that meeting the other boy was the best thing that had happened to him in many a year.

"No," Gellert replied. "I haven't travelled just for the sake of travelling. Frankly I don't see the point in that; one must have a purpose in everything one does."

"If that's the case then there must be a reason you ended up in Godric's Hollow of all places; I mean you must have other relatives than just your great-aunt," Albus said.

"Of course there's a reason; there's a reason for everything," Gellert replied. It was almost as though he were astounded by the ridiculousness of Albus' previous statement (which, in Albus' mind, had been a perfectly reasonable thing to say). "And for your information, Aunt Bathilda's the only surviving relative I have now."

Albus paled, knowing that this time he truly had spoken without thinking. It wasn't a good thing; if he carried on like this then he'd end up like Aberforth, and he certainly didn't want that. It was strange though – normally he never slipped up and said idiotic things, so what was it about Gellert that was making him act like an absolute fool?

"I still haven't answered you question, have I?" Gellert drawled. Albus shook his head, half-tempted to tell the other boy that it didn't matter, then leave before he said anything else stupid.

"I'm looking for the Deathly Hallows," Gellert said eventually.

When Albus realised what his companion had just said, his first reaction was to assume that this was a joke. After all, everyone knew that the Deathly Hallows were just another one of those silly children's stories that Beedle the Bard had made up centuries ago. But then he caught sight of the harsh look in Gellert's eyes and realised that the younger boy was, in fact, deadly serious. This beautiful, orphaned boy with a bizarre fascination with the Dark Arts had chosen to come to Godric's Hollow in an attempt to find the Deathly Hallows? It sounded like something out of a storybook, yet Albus had no reason to believe that this was anything other than the truth.

"You don't entirely believe me, do you?" Gellert sighed. "That's no surprise, really; most wouldn't. After all, the Deathly Hallows are just a legend insofar as most people are concerned – but I know otherwise. I've been researching them for years, you know: what else was I meant to do at the damned school? You may not believe me, Albus Dumbledore, but I know enough to be certain that not only are the Deathly Hallows real, they can be found somewhere in this country."

"Why are you trying to find them though?" Albus asked, his interest piqued all the more by the very absurdity of the situation.

"A new century is coming, my dear Albus. These are times of change – change for the better. It is time for us to unite wizards and muggle, time for us to act in order to achieve the greater good for all mankind. I am sure that if we succeed in uniting the Deathly Hallows then we will be able to do something worth note, to make the lives of millions of people far better than they would ever otherwise be. And I think that you could help me, Albus Dumbledore, I really do; minds such as ours are rare, and two great men working together would be able to achieve far more than would either acting alone. What do you say, Albus? Do you want to make this ideas a reality, to make this utopia a reality?"

Gellert's eyes were glinting in a way that Albus had never seen before; it was the look of one who not only has a great idea but knows that he has, or at least soon will have both the intellect and the means to make said idea a truth. Perhaps Gellert was mad, what with his talk of the Deathly Hallows, but his ideas of making the world a better place, a place where wizards did not hide form muggles but helped them to utilise their full powers, that was something that Albus was willing to go along with. Never before had he met someone so like himself – this was not an opportunity he was going to let slip away from him.

"It's an ambitious plan, Gellert," Albus replied, "But it does make sense. However, I think a few more cups of tea will have to be consumed before any real plans take shape, don't you?"


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

Many more conversations were conducted over cups of tea round Bathilda Bagshot's kitchen table in the aftermath of Gellert's revelations. In general the tea would become colder and colder as the conversation heated up, and it wasn't uncommon for Albus to find himself debating such things as the complexity of Mermish grammar with Gellert while their tea was left to languish on the table, stone cold and totally untouched.

Most of their conversations, of course, centred around what they would do once they managed to free the wizarding world from muggle tyranny. A small part of Albus' mind told him that these were awfully ambitious plans for a pair of teenaged wizards, but a lager part of his brain shouted that if anyone in the world had the intelligence and bravery to implement such ideas, then he and Gellert were the perfect candidates to do so. All they had to do was unite the Deathly Hallows and power beyond imagining would be theirs – would be the wizarding worlds', and that would achieve so much for the greater good that it brought tears to Albus' eyes just to consider it.

Day after day they did the same thing. Albus would sort out domestic tasks and work in the mornings and early afternoons, then come mid-afternoon he would go to Bathilda Bagshot's and discuss matters with Gellert until late into the night. Then if either of them had any particularly brilliant thoughts during the night they would send the other an owl. So far this had only happened a handful of times, and only once had an irate Aberforth screamed to him through the door to shut his bird up before he hexed it.

That was why Albus was most surprised when an owl flew in through his bedroom window at eight-o-clock in the morning. Firstly, Gellert never sent letters in the morning – and secondly and more importantly, it wasn't Gellert's owl. No, it was another owl, an equally familiar one. Finally, here was his long awaited letter from Elphias.

Elphias who, Albus' conscience growled at him, he had utterly forgotten since he had met Gellert. Albus shrugged this off and eagerly began to devour the letter.

_My dearest Albus,_

It is such a shame that you were detained from accompanying me on this most fascinating trip. So far I have entertained myself by researching the original alchemeic formulae alongside some of Egypt's most famed alchemists (Ahmed al-Karim and Zedbadiah el-Rashid, to name but two), which is quite possibly the most fascinating thing I have yet done. I must say that this would have been vastly more entertaining were you here with me, but I understand that the present, terrible circumstances have unavoidably detained you in Godric's Hollow for the foreseeable future.

Following this I conducted some research into some ancient Nubian rituals, after which I have been progressively travelling south throughout the continent. Admittedly I had a rather unpleasant run in with a sphinx a few weeks ago, but luckily I managed to get out of that one without losing either life or limb. You'll excuse me if i don't detail the entire encounter here; I have only limited supplies of parchment, as I'm sure you'll understand.

_Right now I am in the far south of Africa, but I fear that I may have to leave the continent soon. Tensions have recently been brewing between the muggles of our own country and those in the Transvaal Republic, and I am afraid that another ridiculous conflict will soon break out and disrupt my travel plans. I am only glad that relations between the wizards of the world have been peaceful for the past few decades; how frightening it would be if we were so prone to war as the muggles!_

I wish you all the best in whatever endeavours you have recently undertaken (knowing you there will be at least twenty things in progress right now, I'm sure).

Your loving friend,

Elphias Ignotus Doge

Albus placed the letter carefully on his desk. So the muggles were warring again? What strange creatures muggles were; why all the conflict with countries that were thousands of miles away and which would take the muggles months at least to reach? There was absolutely no rhyme or reason to the ways of those animals.

* * *

"So the muggles have become involved in another war?" Gellert drawled, a rather bored look on his face. "I hardly see why this is news, Albus. Muggles seem to be constantly involved in wars of some type or other."

"I'm only concerned because Elphias is my friend and there's a chance that he might get caught up in this mess," Albus snapped. "And besides, isn't this proof that we need to work even harder at finding the Deathly Hallows? If we don't bring peace to the world then the muggles will end up wiping themselves out – and they'll take us with them!"

Gellert sighed, pushed a blonde curl behind his ear, then said, "I'm not going to have this discussion again." He began rummaging around in a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky.

Albus stared at him then raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were still underage?"

"That," Gellert replied, pouring out two glasses of the dark amber liquid before handing one to Albus, "does not matter. We are toasting the future of the wizarding world, the end of muggle dominion and of all chaos and wars."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Gellert said with a smile, "that once the muggles are put in their place we will never see war again. After all, Albus, we're not just aiming for a society where wizardkind can live in peace; we're creating a utopia."

Albus took a sip of his drink them smiled at his friend. Yes, what they were doing would improve the lives of so many. It would not be long now before they achieved their aims and peace descended on the world forevermore.

* * *

When Albus stumbled through the foot doorway of his house at two-o-clock that morning he feeling rather more enthused than he had in a very long time. After all, what was there not to be happy about? He and Gellert had the perfect plan to control the muggles and thus make the world safe for their own kind. If they managed to do that then Ariana would not have to live in hiding and no one else would ever be forced to suffer in the same way that his sister had.

"So you're finally back then."

Albus started at the voice, then one of the lamps in the corner flickered on to reveal that Aberforth was curled up on the sofa with a book on his lap and a sneer on his face. He stared icily at his brother, who gazed serenely back. No, not even Aberforth was going to spoil Albus' mood, not tonight.

"Yes, I am back, and I fail to see why my comings and goings are of any concern to you," Albus snapped, then allowed his smile to resume its former place, which only served to incense his brother further.

"You're drunk, aren't you? Don't deny it; I can smell it from here." Aberforth looked totally incredulous. "You leave me here to look after our sister for days on end even though you're the one who's of age and supposed to be our guardian. You've been constantly disappearing with that bloody Grindelwald boy: and now you've come back at two in the morning reeking of firewhisky, and you have the audacity to bloody well ask me why I should care where you are?" Aberforth's voice had risen to a shout by now. "You're supposed to be looking after Ariana, Albus, but you just don't care at all!"

"Of course I care for Ariana. I care far more than you do, brother dear. What are you doing to help her, really?"

"Well I'm the one who's actually looking after her," Aberforth replied through gritted teeth. "While you're spending every moment of the day with Gellert sodding Grindelwald messing about with obscure texts and Arithmancy problems."

"As per usual you are entirely wrong," Albus sighed. "I'm working on a way to rid our sister of her problems permanently, and Gellert just happens to be helping me with that." Albus noticed that his brother's hand was already inching towards his wand and tried not to groan. "Must you be so predictable, Aberforth? Not everything has to be resolved through duelling, you realise that?"

"In your case it does," Aberforth replied, his wand now clenched tightly in his fist. It looked like it was taking all of his self-control to refrain from cursing his brother there and then. "You've always been an insufferable bigot, Albus, and you've become even worse since Grindelwald appeared."

"I have not!" Albus protested, wondering whether he really had imbibed a little more firewhisky than was wise. Usually by now he would have hexed his brother and been done with it, but for some reason he was actually standing to listen to Aberforth's nonsense.

"I beg to differ," Aberforth hissed. "The way you've been acting recently might have been down to stress at first, and I can't blame you for that, but now… It's almost as though you're in love with him or something!"

Albus felt his temper rising, his own hand now grasping his wand. "I am not in love with Gellert, you absolute fool. He and I have simply been working together to attempt to make this world a better pl…"

He caught sight of a pair of wide blue eyes staring with terror at them from the doorway. Ariana was standing there in her nightgown with her blonde hair all in tangles, obviously deeply disturbed by her brothers' shouting. Albus was suddenly struck by just how small his sister looked; she had just turned fourteen, but someone who didn't know better could easily have taken her to be eight or nine. He'd never quite realised just how much the… accident had affected her physically until now. The wild magic he'd known about, of course, but not this – though at the thought of the harm his sister's uncontrollable magic had caused them all, he couldn't quite control the bitterness he felt. She may have been only a child, and she may have been totally unable to control her actions, but she had still been responsible for their mother's death.

Then she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, shaking like a terrified deer, and Albus' heart practically broke. How could he be angry with her? It was those muggle barbarians that he ought to be angry with, just like his father had been... and then they had sentenced his poor father to rot away in Azkaban. When he and Gellert had their way, nothing like this would ever happen again.

"What are you doing?" Ariana whispered.

"It's nothing, Ri," Aberforth said, taking his younger sister by the hand. "Al and I are just a bit sleepy, and you know how annoyed people can get when they're tired. So why don't you go to bed now too, or you'll be stupid and tired like Al and me." He led Ariana out of the room, but not before shooting one last, dark look at Albus.

Albus stormed out of the room, a rising sensation of guilt making his cheeks burn. He shouldn't have disturbed his sister. Or maybe he should have disturbed her more; he hadn't realised quite how fragile the poor child had become. He was failing in his duty as a guardian and a brother – but it wasn't his fault. It couldn't be his fault. He had never asked for this, never asked for those hideous muggles to take his father, ruin his sister and kill his mother. Never. This just confirmed it: he and Gellert needed to move on with their plan, and fast.

He threw himself into the chair by his desk and glared out of the window at the moon, which simply smiled serenely back at him. Aberforth was an idiot. How dare he have even been thinking some of the things that he'd just said! Him, Albus Dumbledore, in love with Gellert Grindelwald? What a preposterous notion. His brother truly was an imbecile.


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

Albus trudged through Godric's Hollow, laden with shopping bags that were awkward to carry despite his having placed a feather-light charm on them. He despised shopping, but of course it had to be done; if he didn't bother doing it then he, Ariana and Aberforth would all starve to death. His brother probably wasn't even capable of finding food for himself in the pantry, let alone actually going to the shops and buying something. Of course it didn't help that the nearest shops were three miles away and Aberforth was highly unlikely to ever wander that far on foot at all, let alone do that and carry back a heavy load of shopping (because of course his fool of a brother was incapable of casting something so simple as a feather-light charm, underage or not).

A smile crept onto Albus' face as he came in sight of his own house. Finally he would be able to prepare some food, do some work, then go down to Bathilda Bagshot's later in order to have a discussion and a cup of tea with Gellert. It was probably the best way to get away from the stress and monotony than running a household at the tender age of seventeen brought with it.

Any plans that Albus had had, however, were immediately brought to a halt when he saw that his brother was not alone in the living room. No, Aberforth was sitting on one of the armchairs, drinking a cup of tea that had evidently been burnt to the point of not being fit for human consumption – and opposite him, his polite expression belying his boredom, was Gellert.

Albus tried to hide his shock as Aberforth shot an artificially sweet smile at him. "Oh, good afternoon. I was wondering when you'd be back," his brother said. His tone would have simply seemed polite on anyone else, but on Aberforth it seemed totally unnatural.

Albus sat down on the sofa and glared at Aberforth. What was he playing at, asking Gellert over when he wasn't there? The two boys had never so much as spoken to each other, at least so far as Albus was aware, and yet here Gellert was, sitting with his idiot of a younger brother and looked torturously bored.

"I hope my brother hasn't wasted too much of your time," Albus said apologetically to Gellert, who shrugged.

"Why Albus, I simply thought I'd spend a little time getting to know Gellert," Aberforth replied, affecting an offended tone of voice whilst looking innocently up at his brother. The look didn't fool anyone in the room – not Gellert nor Albus nor even Aberforth himself. "After all, he had to be a very interesting person for you to spend so much time with him instead of your family."

Albus ignored the barely disguised insult and wondered, not for the first time, how he and his utterly tactless brother could ever have been sorted into the same house at school. Gellert seemed to be ignoring the sweetened venom in Aberforth's voice as well, and was instead busying himself by eating his way through the plate of biscuits that Aberforth had left on the table. Luckily those, unlike the tea, weren't burnt.

"Yes," said Gellert, obviously relieved to see Albus and know that he would have some relatively sane conversation now. "Your brother has been most entertaining. I didn't realise you kept goats." He helped himself to yet another biscuit while Albus mentally cursed his brother's childhood obsession with goats.

"We have two goats. Fluffy and Treacle. Do you want to see them?"

Albus realised with a start that Ariana had just come into the room. There were flowers in her hair and grass stains on her dress, so she had obviously been outside in the garden – probably playing with the blasted goats, he thought. Albus shot Aberforth a look that plainly said 'Why did you leave Ariana on her own?' but Aberforth either didn't notice the look in his brother's eyes or simply pretended not to.

"And who would this lovely young lady be?" Gellert asked, smiling at Ariana, who smiled vacantly back.

"She's our sister," Albus said, and upon seeing the surprised expression on Gellert's face, he realised that he had completely neglected to mention his sister in the past. How very strange that was, considering that she was the main reason that he was co-operating with Gellert in order to save the wizarding world.

Ariana sat down on the arm of the chair next to Gellert and picked up a teacup. She didn't try to pour herself some tea, simply gazed at the cup as though trying to figure out what it was. It was at times like this that Albus' heart broke to think of the damage that had been done to his sister, who had been ever so bright as a child. Not like Aberforth – Ariana should have been brilliant like Albus was. She would be brilliant again one day.

Suddenly Albus was aware of the fact that Gellert and Ariana had the same wide eyes and the same mess of blonde ringlets, and for a moment Albus wondered whether he was drawn to Gellert because the boy so strongly resembled the woman that Ariana should have become. He dismissed that thought almost as soon as it arose; of course that was not it. It couldn't have been. No, he was friends with Gellert because they had similarly great minds and the same views and were capable of changing the entire world between them. It had nothing to do with his sister expect for his desire to save her.

"Well," Gellert said, breaking the uneasy silence. "I'm afraid I shall have to be going now. I promised my aunt that I'd help her with dinner tonight."

Albus knew for a fact that Gellert was about as well acquainted with the fine art of cooking as the average pureblood man (that was to say, not at all), so he immediately realised that Gellert wanted to take the opportunity to escape before Aberforth started one of his mindless rants again.

"I'll show you out," Albus said. As he walked Gellert to the door he distinctly heard Ariana speak.

"I like your friend. He seems a bit scary but a bit nice, like Al."

Albus flinched upon hearing those words. His own sister was afraid of him? He could understand her fearing his magic, yes, but not him. He and Gellert would make the world so safe that Ariana would never have to fear anything again, least of all her own brother.

"You never mentioned that you have a sister," Gellert said. "And I've seen your brother around before, but never her. Why is that?"

"She's… unstable," Albus explained as they began the walk back to Bathilda Bagshot's house. "She was attacked by a group of muggles when she was very young," he felt his voice cracking as he spoke. "We never found out what exactly they did to her, but it was bad enough that she can't control her magic at all. My father taught the barbarians a lesson and ended up in Azkaban for his troubles."

Gellert frowned. "I see. I think I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Why you've been so eager to help me," Gellert replied. "Even geniuses such as ourselves can be blind to the truth because of how we've been conditioned by our society. But you… you've seen the savagery of muggles first hand, so you know why we have to do what we're intending to do."

Albus nodded. "I just don't want her to hurt anymore. I'll do whatever it takes to make Ariana into the woman she should have been. Anything, just so long as she's not harmed."

"Albus, our final struggle for peace will not harm your sister," Gellert replied with a smile. "This only proves that our cause is even more noble than I had previously thought."

With that he wandered down the garden path away from Albus' home, and Albus Dumbledore felt his convictions about what they were doing double in intensity. Yes, in their new world Ariana would be loved rather than exiled. It was worth having to kill any number of muggle scum in order to see his sister smile again.


End file.
